


These words that won't come out

by justonemoremiraclesherlock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Communication, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Getting Together, Healthy Relationships, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, and later on, but the focus is mainly on these two, other characters will also appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoremiraclesherlock/pseuds/justonemoremiraclesherlock
Summary: A collection of connected one-shots about the evolution of Derek and Stiles' relationship, based on the "one hundred ways to say I love you" list of prompts.-"I didn't think you were ready to talk about it.""I'm not, really. But... I need you to know. I'm right there with you. I just—" Derek placed his hand on top of Stiles', tangling their fingers together. "I just need a bit more time.""I know. I can wait.""You shouldn't have to—""But I want to. And that's my choice to make, not yours."
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 165





	1. Dream

**Author's Note:**

> You know that feeling when you haven't written anything in, like, 7+ years, and even though you get the itch to write every once in a while you kinda never get around to it, and then all of the sudden you get slammed with such a fleshed out plot that you just can't let the opportunity pass? Yeah, it be like that sometimes.  
> Just to be clear, this is not, in fact, that magical plot bunny. This is a series of connected one-shots, because I figured I should get some practice in before tackling something larger and much more complex, and I'm rusty as all hell. Not to mention that my english (which is not my native language btw) has evolved a lot since I last wrote fanfiction, so I should make less mistakes now. Maybe. Hopefully.
> 
> Finally, a couple of things:  
> The prompts I used can be found [here](https://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you)  
> There are a hundred of them, but I paired them in groups of five/six (I had no idea what to do with some of them, so I just left them out), and there's a total of 16 chapters. Each chapter can more or less stand on its own, but they're all connected and mark the evolution of Stiles and Derek's relationship.  
> I used the prompts mainly for inspiration, so the wording will not always be the exact same. I will put the prompts I used for each chapter at the end, along with any warnings the chapter may have, to avoid spoilers.
> 
> So, that's about it. Enjoy x

Okay, so, apparently the nightmare had completely fucked with his head. It was the only explanation as to why he was standing outside of Derek's loft in the middle of the night, wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt (he did remember to put shoes on, though, he wasn't _that_ far gone). He had alternated between randomly pacing the hallway and getting right in front of the door, ready to knock, before giving up and going back to the pacing. Apparently, his senses had left him long enough to direct him to Derek's place, but then decided to come back the second he got there.

His brain was an asshole.

He raised his fist ( _again_ ) to try and knock on the door, when it suddenly burst open, revealing an exasperated Derek on the other side.

"Is there a reason why you've been standing outside my door for the past twenty minutes?"

"Fifteen," muttered Stiles, looking off to the side to avoid seeing the expression on Derek's face. "Listen, just—forget it, okay? It's nothing. Sorry for waking you up."

He turned around, face flushed, ready to go home and hide from Derek for the foreseeable future, when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

" _Stiles_." How Derek managed to express so much by just saying his name, Stiles would never know. "Don't be an idiot. What's wrong?"

He stayed silent, hoping Derek would give up and let him go without having to admit why he came in the first place. He thought he had gotten his wish when he heard him sigh, but was proven wrong when Derek dragged him into the loft.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

"Wait here," said Derek, and disappeared towards his bedroom.

Well. Okay, then.

He didn't even have time to feel awkward, because Derek came back almost immediately. He was still wearing a pair of sweats and a rumpled shirt, but had now put on a jacket and a pair of shoes.

"Come on. We're going out."

"What?"

"We're going out," Derek repeated, furrowing his brow. "Let's go."

"And you're going out dressed like that?" Derek raised an eyebrow and gave him a once-over. "Ok, yeah, point. But dude, seriously, you should go back to bed. I wasn't trying to—"

"It's fine. I couldn't sleep anyway."

"Liar," Stiles mumbled under his breath, and felt ridiculously satisfied when the corner of Derek's lip twitched upwards. It was his personal mission to make the guy smile as often as possible, and even a twitch of the lips was progress nowadays. He'd take what he could get. "Seriously, though, where are we going?"

"If you followed me instead of pestering me about it, you'd find out," Derek replied, and headed towards the door.

Showing up at the loft had been a _terrible_ idea.

* * *

Scratch that, showing up at the loft had been an _amazing_ idea.

"Oh my God, are you taking me out to dinner?" Stiles asked, when he noticed Derek had directed him to the parking lot of an all-night diner. They had taken Stiles' car, because Derek's was still at the mechanic's and Stiles refused to let anyone drive his baby, and Derek had spent the entire ride cryptically giving him directions, until they were almost at the edge of the town. Derek raised an eyebrow again, and seriously, between the expressiveness of his eyebrows and his ability to pack multiple meanings into a single word, Stiles was starting to think Derek could easily go through life barely muttering a single word. Which… actually explained a lot, now that he thought about it. "Right, yeah, no questions. After you, then."

They went into the diner and took their seats at one of the booths near the window, far away from the only other table occupied. The waitress approached them swiftly, clearly bored out of her mind since there were barely any people there at two in the morning, and asked for their orders.

"A large portion of curly fries and a milkshake for him, and a coffee and a slice of apple pie for me, please," Derek ordered, before Stiles even had time to open his mouth.

"So. To what do I owe this sudden burst of generosity?" Stiles asked, as the waitress left the table.

Derek stared at him for a moment, studying him carefully. "What was the nightmare about?"

Stiles' mouth went dry.

"How—?"

"I recognize the signs," Derek explained. "We took turns watching over you after what happened with the Nogitsune, remember? I know what you look like after a nightmare."

Stiles' hands started shaking, so he hid them between his legs before Derek noticed. "I didn't know you were one of my appointed guard dogs. I never saw you after one."

"I'm not very good at the whole... comforting thing," he admitted, avoiding his gaze. "I would have intervened if you hadn't been able to calm down on your own, or if you had hurt yourself. But we weren't really friends back then, and I thought my presence would do more harm than good."

"Oh." Stiles was caught off guard by Derek's forwardness. He wasn't usually the sharing type. He didn't really know what to respond to that, so he decided to focus on the saftest part of what he’d said, to try and lighten the mood. "Wait, does that mean we're friends _now_?"

Derek looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Maybe he needed to rethink his definition of safe.

Before he could take it back, or make a joke about it, the waitress came back with their order.

Derek took a sip from his coffee, put it down, and stared pointedly at it to avoid eye contact, while Stiles started taking sips from his milkshake and eating his fries, keeping his head down to avoid catching a glimpse of Derek’s face. Maybe the waitress' interruption was a blessing in disguise. They could finish eating in silence, and forget the whole conversation. No reason to keep talking about that time after the Nogitsune, or their apparent friendship status, or—"I dreamt about you dying," he blurted out.

Well, shit.

Derek looked up from his coffee, looking uncertain. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I—" Stiles licked his lips and took another sip of his milkshake, while he tried to organize his thoughts. "I know it's dumb. But it's been a while since I've had a dream so vivid, and I couldn't shrug it off once I woke up, and I just—I just needed to make sure. That you were actually okay."

Stiles hung his head once more and focused firmly on his curly fries while he polished them off, not willing to see Derek's reaction. Derek, for his part, had gone back to his coffee in silence, as if Stiles hadn't just put himself out there.

Well, then. It's not as if he expected the guy to comfort him (he said it himself, that was not really his thing), but he thought he'd still get some sort of acknowledgement after a confession like that, instead of—

Something was forcefully shoved towards him, and it took him a second to realize it was Derek's pie.

"It's your favorite, isn't it?" Derek said, looking out of the window.

"Yes?" What the fuck. "Dude, I'm not taking your pie!"

"I got it for you, actually. Scott mentioned once how you would always go for something sweet after a nightmare, so…" He glanced quickly at Stiles, before his eyes darted back to the window.

 _Not comforting, my ass_.

"We could share," Stiles suggested, moving the pie to the middle of the table. Derek tried to protest, but Stiles continued, "Dude, seriously, I'm not _that_ hungry. You don't want this poor pie to go to waste, do you? Come on, don't even front, I know you like apple pie, too, big guy."

Derek grumbled something under his breath, but still called the waitress over to ask for another fork. Stiles could see a small smile peeking from the corner of his mouth, and he couldn't help but smile in response. They finished the pie in silence, but it was comfortable this time. He was finally starting to relax, and could even feel his eyelids start to drop in response.

They only spoke again at the end of the meal, once it was time to pay. Stiles insisted he should be the one paying, since it was his fault they were both out there in the middle of the night in the first place, but Derek argued he was the one to bring Stiles to the diner, and gave the money to the waitress before Stiles could protest further.

Once they were out and walking back to the car, Derek turned to Stiles and asked for the keys to the jeep.

"You were lucid enough when we came here, but you reek of exhaustion now. So shut up and let me drive you home, idiot."

Stiles tried to argue back, but a yawn split past his lips the moment he opened his mouth.

First his brain and now his body. Would the betrayals never end?

He put the jeep's keys in Derek's expectant hand and let himself be manhandled into the passenger's seat. He started to nod off two minutes into the drive, so maybe Derek had had a point. _Maybe_.

Whatever, he’d still gotten a free meal out of the whole deal. Totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”  
> "After you."  
> “I dreamt about you last night.”  
> “You can have half.”  
> “No, no, it’s my treat.”  
> “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”


	2. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end.

"What do you mean Derek's missing?"

"Dude, Erica's been trying to get in touch with him all day, but he's not picking up. She called me to ask if I've heard from him, but the last time we talked was at the pack meeting, last Wednesday." Scott huffed in frustration. "Have you seen him? Or talked to him at all since then?"

"Yeah, dude, we texted yesterday and he seemed fine. I don't—" Stiles stopped, suddenly struck with a thought, and checked his phone calendar. "Wait, never mind. I think I know where he is. Tell Erica I'll take care of it."

"Wait, where—"

Stiles hung up on him and pocketed his phone. He berated himself for forgetting the date as he made his way to the jeep. He knew Derek made it a point to isolate himself on the anniversary of the fire, but things were different now. They were friends... sort of. At the very least, they were closer than they'd been a year ago, and he refused to let Derek spend the day at the burnt-out shell of his home, drowning in guilt and shouldering the responsibility for something that wasn't his fault.

* * *

As Stiles approached the Hale house, he saw Derek's hunched form sitting on the grass, facing the building. He almost looked small, and more than a little lost, his eyes fixated on the house as if willing it to rebuild itself and erase any trace of its current state. He sat down next to Derek, shoulders barely brushing, opting to stay silent for a while to see if Derek would break the silence first, if only to question his presence.

"What are you doing here?" whispered Derek, without taking his eyes off the house.

 _Success_.

"Oh, you know. Just out for a walk. The evening’s nice, so I came out to get some air, and what better way to embrace nature than by taking a stroll through the preserve—"

" _Stiles_." Derek sounded harsher now, but his voice was still barely more than a whisper. "Why are you here?"

"...I know what today is." He felt Derek tense up beside him. "I'm sorry about your family. They didn't deserve what happened to them."

"What? To be murdered by one of their own?" Derek sounded wrecked.

"No. To have a member of their family manipulated by a psychotic bitch, and to die by her hand." Derek's head shot up to face Stiles, shoulders rigid and face twisted in a mixture of confusion and pain. "Yeah, I know about Kate. And what happened wasn't your fault, Derek."

"Of course it was," he choked out roughly. "I let her in on our secret, I let her convince me that she wanted me, I let her kill—"

"No," Stiles interrupted harshly. "You didn’t _let_ her do anything. _She_ manipulated an underage boy, and _she_ is responsible for your family's death. Not you. Don't even try to argue with me, big guy, you know how annoyingly persistent I can be. I'll tell you every day, if I have to."

A huff escaped Derek's mouth, almost resembling a laugh, and his shoulders lost some of the tension. "That does sound like something you would do."

"I totally would. Now get up. I'm not letting you stay here to torture yourself. You're coming with me."

Stiles stood up and held out his hand to help Derek up. Derek looked at it for a moment, turned his head to look back at the house, and then looked at Stiles' offered hand again. With a sigh, he took it and let himself be pulled up and pushed gently towards the jeep.

* * *

"Okay, go sit down. I'll make you some tea." That's what you offered someone when you were trying to make them feel better, right?

Stiles went towards the kitchen once he made sure Derek was sitting on the couch, and prepared the tea. Once it was ready, he made his way back to the living room, only to stop on his tracks at the sight of Derek crying silently, head cradled on his hands and fingers clutching at his hair.

"Whoa, whoa, okay." Shit. "Hey, don't cry, it's okay." He quickly put the tea on the coffee table and sat down next to Derek, unsure of what to do next. A hug seemed a bit too forward, and he knew Derek wasn't overly fond of being touched. He tried to think back on what his dad used to say when he'd cry about his mom's death. "Actually, never mind, you're allowed to cry if you want. You're allowed to feel whatever you need to feel, okay? I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He thought back at how Derek had actually taken his hand back in the preserve, when he helped him get back on his feet, and decided to take a chance. "Hey, is it okay if I hold your hand? It's totally cool if you're not comfortable with that, I just—"

Derek chocked out another semblance of a laugh and let both of his arms fall down, elbows resting on top of his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. Slowly, he turned one of his hands to the side, moving his forearm to rest fully on top of his leg, and splayed his fingers in a silent invitation.

Just as hesitant, Stiles took hold of Derek's hand, tangling their fingers together, and brushed his thumb softly over the back of it. He leaned a bit more to the side, to press his shoulder carefully against Derek's, and just let him cry.

After a couple of minutes, once it seemed clear Derek's tears were subsiding, he grabbed the tea with his free hand and offered it to Derek. "It’ll make you feel better, just trust me on this. The media can't possibly be wrong about the magical healing properties of tea."

Derek rolled his eyes, looking a bit more like himself already, and took the cup from him.

"I don't understand you," Derek said after a while, leaving the half-empty cup back on the coffee table.

"You can literally scent my emotions, so I somehow doubt that's true."

"No, I mean... why are you doing this? Why bother?"

Stiles stayed silent for a moment, but finally replied, "Because you deserve to be taken care of, too. You'd do the same for me —you already have, actually— and you deserve to have someone who reminds you that you're not as alone as you think. Besides," Stiles flushed a bit but kept going, knowing it was important for Derek to hear this. "You deserve to be happy, man. I know you think the world’s out to get you for something that _wasn't your fault_ , but... that's not true. You're allowed to move on. And you're allowed to be happy. You just need to let yourself."

Derek's hand tightened on his, and his face turned carefully blank. For a second, he thought he had gone too far, but after a beat, the grip loosened up, soft but still firm, and Derek’s face cleared, the barest hint of a real smile peeking from the corner of his mouth.

"Okay," Derek whispered, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: mention of past character deaths.  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “I’m sorry for your loss.”  
> “Don’t cry.”  
> “Can I hold your hand?”  
> “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”  
> “I want you to be happy.”


	3. Coffee

"Well, you look like shit."

Stiles let out a yelp and spun around in his chair, having to grab onto his desk to avoid losing his balance. He glared at Derek when he heard him snort, as the werewolf made his way through the open window, and almost regretted how freely he laughed nowadays, specially when it was at his expense.

Oh, who was he kidding. Seeing Derek smile still sent a thrill down his spine, and he doubted that would change any time soon.

"Your face looks like shit," Stiles grumbled, turning back to his laptop to continue with his essay.

He heard Derek chuckle —asshole totally knew he was lying— and say, as he stepped closer, "Oh? I guess I'll have to get rid of this extra coffee, then..."

Stiles threw himself from his chair and towards Derek, and tried to take one of the cups from his hand.

"Oh my God, forget what I said, you and your face look amazing, they always do, now give me that!"

Derek rolled his eyes, finally relenting and allowing Stiles to grab one of the coffees, before he spilled both of them all over the floor.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

"Two sugars, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." Stiles downed half of the cup in one go, falling into his chair with a contented sigh.

"Are you going to tell me why you look like you haven't slept in three days?"

"Two and a half," Stiles muttered, ignoring Derek's unamused expression. "I'm fine. I've just been stuck on this essay for _days_ now, and it's due tomorrow. It's been driving me insane."

"I thought you said taking online classes would be easy?"

" _Easier_. I said it'd be easier. And it is, mostly! It's this specific topic that’s giving me trouble. And the teacher, actually, he kind of sucks at explaining. Like, the whole class in general is a mess." He took a couple more sips of his coffee and stared mournfully at it when it was finally empty.

Derek sighed and said, as he handed him his own coffee, "here, you can have mine. I brought two for a reason."

“You know me so well.” Stiles' eyes lit up as he cradled the new cup to his chest. "I love you."

"Are you talking to me or the coffee?"

"Yes."

Derek huffed out a laugh. "I can help, you know?"

"Yeah, you're a fantastic coffee provider, big guy. You’re welcome to do it anytime.”

"No, idiot, with your essay. I can read what you've written from here, and I know some things about the subject. Besides, you look like you're about to kneel over. Or start bouncing off the walls," he added, sounding almost apprehensive.

"Yeah, I might have taken a bit more Adderall than usual. And a probably unhealthy amount of coffee," he grimaced.

"I noticed," Derek said, almost fondly. "Now focus. The faster we finish your essay, the faster you can sleep it off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “It’s two sugars, right?”  
> “That’s okay, I bought two.”/“Take mine.”  
> “I’ll help you study.”  
> “I noticed.”


	4. Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end notes.

Stiles pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to fend off another headache. He’d been getting them at random for the past two days, and they were starting to affect his ability to read. He knew he should probably take a rest and actually sleep, but finals were coming and he was still behind on his coursework. On top of that, he had to attend pack meetings twice a week, and had now taken on the extra work of compiling all the information they had on supernatural creatures into digital form. Derek had asked for his help as a last resort, knowing how busy he'd been the last couple of weeks, but the rest of the pack was also busy with their own exams and part-time jobs, and couldn't really be bothered. Which just left Stiles, who was apparently incapable of saying no to Derek.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home and rest? I can finish this section on my own."

"Nope, I'm good."

"Stiles, seriously, I know you haven't been sleeping. This isn't urgent, it can wait until tomorrow, or at least until you take a break and catch up on some sleep."

"Dude, listen, if I go home now, I'll just end up working on college stuff. Finals start next week, so I'll take a break once I'm done with them, I promise, but until then—"

He couldn't finish his sentence, because from one blink to the next, his laptop had suddenly shut off.

Well, all right, no need to panic. It was getting a bit old, so this wasn't the first time it had died unexpectedly. It was probably the battery or something. He really needed to do something about it.

All pretense of calmness dissipated the moment he tried to turn the laptop on, to no vail. Three times in a row.

His heart started to speed up, and he was putting all of his focus into keeping his breathing under control. All their work was in there. So were his half-written essays, and his notes from class, and—

"Hey, hey, calm down,” he heard Derek whisper. He could have sworn he had been on the other side of the room a second ago, but he sounded much closer now.

"Calm down? Seriously? Asking someone to calm down has never worked before, in the history of ever, and it's not going to fucking start now." Stiles knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t focus both on his breathing and on the words coming out of his mouth. His hands started shaking, and he used them to grasp roughly at his hair, hoping the pain would serve as a distraction from the oppressive weight on his chest.

"Hey, it's okay." He felt Derek grab his hands, breaking the hold they had on his hair, and then put his head down, until his forehead was touching his knees. "Come on, take a deep breath. Good, now hold it. Let go. Again."

Even though he was having trouble hearing Derek’s instructions properly, the werewolf’s soothing voice and the warm hand rubbing circles on his back gave him something else to focus on. After a while, his breathing started to slow down and his heart no longer felt like it would beat out of his chest.

"You're... surprisingly good at that," muttered Stiles, once he regained use of his voice.

"... Cora used to have panic attacks when she was younger. Dad taught us how to handle them, in case him or mom weren't around to help."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Don't tell her I mentioned it, though. She'd probably kick my ass."

Stiles’ laugh was weak, but his body lost most of the remaining tension. He raised his head, drying the moisture from his eyes, and came face to face with Derek, who was staring straight at him, eyebrows pulled into a concerned frown.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, big guy."

Derek nodded once, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze, and stood up. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You are going to get home and sleep." Stiles tried to interject something, but Derek silenced him with a glare. "In the meantime, I'll get someone to take a look at your laptop, to see what can be salvaged, and I'll finish with our work on my own, for now. And stop doing that face, that wasn’t a suggestion."

Stiles snorted. "And I guess I should listen to you because you're my Alpha?"

"No. You should listen to me because I'm your friend. And I'm worried about you."

"Okay,” Stiles relented. He really was incapable of denying him anything. “Okay, fine, if you're sure you don't mind—"

"I don't. Stop worrying."

"Fine,” Stiles sighed, getting to his feet with Derek’s help. “I'll call you as soon as I wake up, okay?"

"Call me when you get home, first. But yes, call me once you’re up, too.”

"All right. Thanks."

He was making his way to the door, when Derek called out to him.

"Be careful on your way home. I don't want to have to explain to your father why you crashed the jeep on your way there."

"Yeah, yeah, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Description of a panic attack.  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “It can wait until tomorrow.”  
> “Take a deep breath.”  
> “I don’t mind.”  
> “Call me if you need anything.”  
> “Call me when you get home.”  
> “Drive safely.”


	5. Therapy

Stiles was getting worried. Derek had been acting… well, not weird exactly, but it was obvious that something was _off_.

Now, to be clear, they didn’t see each other every day. In fact, it was a miracle if they managed to meet up two or three times a week, not counting pack meetings. But they _did_ text every day, even if it was just a random message to check up on the other, or Stiles sending Derek a dumb meme —Derek claimed he hated them, but had never actually told him to stop, so Stiles knew he was secretly amused by them.

Which is why Stiles started to suspect something was wrong when Derek barely responded to his texts. Or, if he did, he did so curtly and to the point, shutting off further communication.

And, okay, maybe he was being a drama queen. But being ignored kind of stung, after all the progress they’ve made in the friendship department, and he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Which is why he decided to show up at Derek’s loft. Unannounced. _Again_.

He really had to stop doing that.

"I'm getting the strangest sense of déjà vu right now," Derek said with an amused smiled and a raised eyebrow, as he opened the door.

"Oh, shut up. Can I come in?"

"Since when do you ask?"

Derek stepped aside to let Stiles in, and they sat down on the couch together. Stiles left a bit more space between them than usual, which had Derek scowling in confusion.

"Are you mad at me?" Stiles blurted out after a couple of seconds, unable to withstand the silence.

"What? Of course not." Derek moved closer to Stiles, until their shoulders were brushing, giving him plenty of time to move back or stop him if he truly wanted to put some space between them. "What's this about?"

"You've been... distant?" God, he sounded so fucking clingy, someone shut him up. "I just wanted to make sure I hadn't done anything to upset you."

"No! No, that's not—" Derek huffed out in frustration. "I promise, it has nothing to do with you. I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"... Okay? Anything I can help with? You know you can tell me anything."

"I know. I trust you." Derek seemed surprised by his own admission, but didn't take it back. Stiles had a hard time keeping the smile off his face. "I just— I've been—" Derek seemed frustrated by his inability to voice his thoughts.

"Dude, it's fine. You don't have to tell me if you're not ready."

"I'm starting therapy in three days," Derek rushed out, hands coiling into fists. "And I'm fucking terrified."

Derek avoided Stiles' gaze, not wanting to see any incredulity —or worse, _pity_ — on his face, but was forced to make eye contact when he felt Stiles’ hand on his jaw.

"Hey," Stiles said, "I'm proud of you, you know? That can't have been easy."

"I've been... I've been thinking about what you said. On the anniversary of the fire," Derek admitted. "I'm still not sure I deserve to be happy after everything I— everything that happened," he amended, seeing the look on Stiles’ face, “but I think I’m ready to try.”

"You totally _do_ deserve it," Stiles said with a grin. "And I know you’ll do great. And since I’m always right, you have nothing to worry about.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, placing his hand on top of the one Stiles had on his cheek, giving it a squeeze. "Guess I can’t argue with that logic."

"Of course not. Resistance is futile, buddy. You _will_ be happy and you’ll _like_ it, you hear me?"

"You're ridiculous."

"You love it."

Yeah. Yeah, Derek reckoned he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “You can tell me anything.”  
> “You can do it.”  
> “Good luck.”  
> “I believe in you.”


	6. Rain

"Heeey, buddy."

"Stiles," Derek sighed into the phone. "What do you need?"

"Okay, first off, I'm offended you'd think I'm only calling you for a favor. Rude. Second, there's this thing called manners—"

" _Stiles_."

"Jeez, okay, fine. Hum, on a scale of one to fuck off, how busy are you right now?"

"As long as I don't have to leave the loft, I might consider answering that. It's pouring down out there." There was silence at the other end of the line. "You can't be serious".

"In my defense, it was barely raining when I left the house."

Derek closed his eyes, asking for patience. "If you don't tell me what you want in the next thirty seconds, I'm hanging up on you."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, sure you are." Derek hated how well Stiles knew him nowadays. "Okay, so, I'm kinda stranded? The jeep suddenly stopped and now it won’t start, and I've tried calling my mechanic, but he's not picking up, and I get that he probably doesn’t want to deal with any calls in this rain, but—

"Stiles. Where, exactly, are you?"

"Oh, right, yeah. I was going to the store, so I guess I’m somewhere half-way there? Hum, probably near the post office."

"All right, stay put. I'm coming to get you."

* * *

"You're wet. Why are you wet and why didn't you mention it on the phone?"

"I got out to look under the hood! To see if I could find what the problem was."

"And how did that work out for you?"

Stiles glared at him as he got out of the jeep, and under Derek's umbrella. Even if it was kind of useless because he was already soaking wet.

"I'll tow the car and we can try to call a mechanic later to take a look at it. Hopefully the rain would have let up by then," Derek said, as they walked back to the Camaro.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

They got into the car and Derek turned on the heater. "I'll not have you catching a cold. You're insufferable when you get sick."

"As opposed to when I ask you to pick me up in the middle of a downpour?"

"Fair point."

* * *

"Wait here," said Derek, once they arrived at the loft.

Stiles stayed next to the door, shivering and trying not to drip water all over the floor. A couple of minutes later, Derek came back and threw a towel at him.

"Get dry. And then go to the bedroom and change into these." Derek motioned to the clothes he was carrying.

"Thanks," Stiles mumbled, drying off as much as he could to avoid tracking water everywhere.

He went to the bedroom to change, and when he came back, Derek had left a cup of coffee waiting for him on the coffee table, and had turned on the Tv, already lounging on the couch.

"You're still too cold," said Derek, placing a hand on Stiles' cheek.

"And you're warm." Stiles pressed himself closer to Derek's palm. “Shit, I forget werewolves tend to run hot."

Derek rolled his eyes but raised his arm to accommodate him, pulling Stiles closer against his side. "What do you want to watch?"

"Oooh, I heard there was a new show about werewolves. We should totally watch it and make fun of it."

"Seriously?" Derek's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Come on, big guy. It'll be fun. And who knows, you might like it."

"Whatever you want, Stiles," Derek whispered, huffing out a laugh. "Whatever you want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”  
> “I brought you an umbrella.”  
> “You can borrow mine.”  
> “You’re warm.”  
> “What do you want to watch?”  
> “You might like this.”


	7. Almost

Stiles was leaning against the wall, watching Scott and Allison as they danced to a slow song, the rest of the pack paired up and dancing around them. Allison looked radiant in her wedding dress, and was smiling happily at Scott, who stared at her as if she was the centre of his universe.

“You’re not tearing up, are you?” Derek asked, appearing beside him.

“It’s a wedding. I’m allowed to get emotional when my best friend gets married.” Stiles grinned. “And don’t think I didn’t see you tear up, too.”

“Lies,” Derek said, smiling back at him. “Getting tired already?”

Stiles scoffed. "I'm just taking a break, dude. Unlike you, I've been taking turns dancing with everyone, and I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Stiles, you're only twenty-two."

"Yeah, but I'm an old soul. Wise beyond my years."

"Sure you are." Derek hesitated, before taking Stiles’ hand. "You haven't danced with me, yet. What do you say?"

Stiles smiled and dragged Derek to the middle of the room, joining the others. Derek placed his hands on Stiles' waist, while Stiles placed his own on Derek's shoulders.

"I didn't even think you knew how to dance," said Stiles with a smirk.

"And yet I already knew you were terrible at it."

"Hey!"

"You stepped on me twice, already." Derek huffed out a laugh when he saw Stiles grimace. "Calm down. Just let me guide you."

It didn't take long for Stiles' hands to go around the back of Derek's neck, resting their foreheads together, and Derek moved his to the small of Stiles' back, pulling him closer. They danced like that for a couple of minutes, swaying to the music in silence, until a more energetic song started playing and they had to separate. As soon as they did, Derek got accosted by Erica, who said it was only fair she and the others got a chance to dance with him too, and Stiles took advantage of the distraction to step outside. He shivered, having taken his jacket off an hour ago because of all the dancing, and leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking up at the sky.

"You're going to catch a cold dressed like that," he heard Derek say from behind him, and felt a jacket being placed on his shoulders. He smiled in response as Derek leaned on the railing next to him, shoulders pressed together. "You smelled upset. After the dance."

"I'm not upset."

Derek glanced at him. "Lie."

"I promise, I'm not. I'm just... wistful, I guess."

They both kept quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"You know it's not just you, right?" Stiles hummed, questioning. "We haven't... we haven't been just friends. Not for a while."

Stiles turned to look at him. "I didn't think you were ready to talk about it."

"I'm not, really. But... I need you to know. I'm right there with you. I just—" Derek placed his hand on top of Stiles', tangling their fingers together. "I just need a bit more time."

"I know. I can wait."

"You shouldn't have to—"

"But I want to. And that's my choice to make, not yours." Stiles tightened his grip for a second, before letting go. "You're worth waiting for, big guy. I'll be here when you're ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Can I have this dance?”  
> “Watch your step.”  
> “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”  
> “I’ll wait.”  
> “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”


	8. Finally

"Remind me again why we always end up watching your ridiculous shows."

"Oh, come on, this one’s fun!"

"Stiles, who in their right mind would give such an important position, in _Paris_ , to a girl who can't even speak french?"

"Shush, you're ruining it."

"Pretty sure it's ruining itself," Derek muttered under his breath.

"Come ooon, one more episode. Promise. And next time we'll watch something you like, okay?"

"It's getting kind of late, though. You shouldn't be out driving at night, it's not safe," Derek said with a frown.

Stiles snorted. "What are you, my dad?"

"No. But he's the one that will have my ass if something happens to you."

"All right, fine," Stiles said with a sigh. "We can stop here. But I'm coming over earlier next time, you hear me? We only watched two episodes today."

"Or," Derek said, avoiding his gaze, "you could stay the night."

"Oh. Are you... what are you saying?"

"I mean, if you want. I can lend you some clothes, and the bed's big enough, so—"

" _Derek_." Stiles waited until Derek turned to look at him. "What, exactly, are you asking for here?"

"I—" Derek hesitated, suddenly unsure. After their talk at the wedding, he had brought up the issue with his therapist. For the past two months, he'd been analyzing what it would mean for him to enter another relationship, how things would change, and how they would remain the same. He knew they already acted like a couple in most ways that mattered, but this was different. If he took this step, he knew that would be it. He needed to be sure. But he also knew if he backed off now, Stiles would understand, and he wouldn't hold it against him. He locked eyes with him, seeing how Stiles’ hopeful expression started to turn uncertain, and knew he had already made his choice. "I want to kiss you."

Stiles licked his lips, eyes darting down to look at Derek's mouth. "Are you sure? Derek, I need you to be sure, okay? I don't think I can—"

"I know," he whispered, brushing Stiles' lower lip with his thumb. "I'm sure. Can I?"

" _Yes_. Fuck, Derek—"

Derek pressed his lips firmly against Stiles', moving his hand to cradle his jaw, and pulling him closer with the other one, while Stiles’ own hands made their way to Derek’s shirt, clutching it tightly. They kissed languidly for a while, exploring, pulling away everyonce in a while to breath, forehead's touching and breaths mingling together.

"How do you feel?" whispered Stiles after a while.

"Like I don't want to fuck this up."

"You won't. Oh, we'll argue, for sure, and it won't always be perfect, but we'll figure it out, okay? We're both commited to this. We’ve got this, babe."

Derek kissed him again, before he was tempted to say something disgustingly sappy. Stiles would never let him live it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the show mentioned at the beginning is Emily in Paris. It's kind of terrible, but fun, if you don't mind some mindless entertainment, so it's worth a watch just for that. And if you think it's great, then fair enough, hope you don't mind the small joke :)  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “One more episode”  
> “Stay over.”  
> “Can I kiss you?”  
> “Are you sure?”  
> “We’ll figure it out.”


	9. Birthday

Stiles took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Derek would be there in a few minutes, and he was determined to give his boyfriend the best birthday he'd ever had.

Derek wasn't aware he knew what the date was, of course. And the only reason he knew in the first place was because he had taken a look at Derek's police file, after sneaking into his dad's office. He'd been willing to let it pass on previous years, most of the pack did, knowing he wasn't one for celebrating, and not wanting to step on any boundaries, but this year would be different. They were actually dating know, and while Stiles had reluctantly let Derek get away with it once they became friends, he couldn't bring himself to do it now.

He got pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. He was almost surprised Derek hadn't come in through the window, since he did enjoy appearing out of nowhere and scaring the shit out of him, until he remembered his dad had established a new rule about using the front door since they started dating. Which would be annoying, but he had reacted so well to the two of them together, that he couldn't even bring himself to be mad about it.

He hurried to open the door, and greeted Derek with a kiss, lacing their fingers together and pulling him into the living room.

"Are you going to tell me why we're having date night in the middle of the week? We usually have them on Saturdays." Derek furrowed his brow, his nose twitching as he scented the air, and then froze, stopping Stiles in his tracks. "Is that... are you making carrot cake?"

"... Maybe."

Derek scowled harder. "You know."

"Happy birthday?" Stiles smiled bashfully, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"It's too quiet for this to be a surprise birthday party."

"That's because it's not." Stiles rolled his eyes and started moving them towards the couch. "I know you better than that, babe. I just planned a nice evening in, with only the two of us. I made some pasta, with that weird sauce you like so much, I baked you some carrot cake, and yes, I know it's your favorite, and I even got you a gift. Well, two, technically."

"I... don't really know what to say. How did you know what my favorite cake was?"

"Cora."

"Of course she did."

"If it makes you feel any better, it took me, like, fifteen minutes to wrangle it out of her. I don't think she likes me much."

Derek snorted. "Oh, trust me, she does. That's just how she is. She seemed pleased when I told her about us, and somehow not surprised _at all_. Said it took us long enough."

"Oh, _lovely_. Wait, come with me, I want you to taste the sauce. You're ridiculously picky about it."

It took Stiles ten minutes to get the sauce exactly the way Derek liked it. Derek kept stopping him to say it didn't matter, but Stiles wouldn't accept anything less than perfection.

"Okay, so, the pasta's almost done, and the cake needs to cool off. You know what that means?"

"I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"Presents! Come on."

Stiles grabbed Derek's forearm and pulled him towards the couch once again, manhandling him until he was sitting down, and went into his room to look for the gifts.

"I come bearing presents!" Stiles yelled, running down the stairs.

"It’s almost concerning how excited you are about this."

"And yet, you're not excited _enough_. I know you don't like celebrating, but do try to muster up some enthusiasm. For me? Please?” He was pretty sure his puppy eyes weren't nearly as effective as Scott's, but they seemed to do the trick anyway. Derek's shoulders lost some of their tension, and he held his hands out expectantly.

"Okay, so, this is the first one. It's not much, but I saw it and it reminded me of you, so—"

"Stiles, _calm down_. I'm sure I'll like it, whatever it is."

Stiles’ leg started bouncing while Derek unwrapped his gift, and he let out a relieved sigh at Derek's reaction.

Derek was holding a wooden figurine of a wolf, that looked as if it was mid-howl, and its fur had been carved into an intricate design, giving it a nice finishing touch. "Stiles... this is beautiful."

"I know. As I said, it reminded me of you." Derek huffed out a laugh, and kissed him. "I found it in a small woodshop, near Deaton's, actually. The woman who made it is awesome, there were tons of figurines and sculptures even more impressive than this one, but the wolf was obviously perfect for you."

"We can go take a look together sometime, if you want. I wouldn't mind seeing what else she has made."

Stiles smiled in response, and handed him the other gift. He was a bit more reluctant about this one, but Cora had assured him Derek would appreciate it.

Derek felt the air leave his lungs when he opened it and saw his parent's faces staring back at him, arms wrapped around a younger Laura. "How— where did you get this?"

"Cora. But I'm pretty sure she got it from Peter."

Derek's head snapped up, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. "Seriously? Peter?"

"He may be an asshole, but he's still your uncle," said Stiles, shrugging. "I'm not gonna pretend I like the guy, but if he _did_ actually send the photo, I might have to hate him a little bit less. And possibly send him a gift basket."

Derek chocked out a laugh, pulling Stiles closer for another kiss.

Maybe celebrating his birthday wasn't so bad, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see what the wolf figurine looks like, you can find it [here](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/70/be/56/70be568cd4271f582ab2df14d313796d.jpg)  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Happy birthday.”  
> “I made your favourite.”  
> “Try some.”  
> “It reminded me of you.”  
> “I made this for you.”


	10. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end.

Derek and Stiles were making out on the couch at Derek’s loft. Their legs were tangled together, bodies pressed close, and while Stiles’ nails began to scratch gently at Derek’s hair, Derek stopped kissing him to move down to his neck, scenting his throat and sucking a mark on his pale skin, moving his hands lower down his back.

It had taken them a while to reach this point. Until recently, most of their touching had remained strictly above the waist, and borderline platonic —they held hands, cuddled, and kissed plenty, but only a couple of weeks ago had Derek started to mark him and allowed his hands to roam. Stiles, knowing about his boyfriend’s intimacy issues, let him set the pace, and only started to reciprocate once Derek was comfortable with it. He had some experience with more intimate matters, though he’d only been with two people before Derek, but they’d only been quick flings, so he didn’t mind the waiting.

"This okay? Or do you want to stop?" asked Stiles, breathless.

"No stopping," growled Derek against his throat. “But I think we should move this to the bedroom.”

 _Oh_. That was new.

They made their way to the bed, taking their shirts off on the way, and Stiles let himself be pushed gently onto his back, Derek hovering above him, his mouth finding its way to his neck once again. Meanwhile, Stiles took the time to explore Derek’s upper body with his hands, from his broad shoulders to the muscles on his chest, and was suddenly hit with a wave of self-doubt.

 _Stop being dumb_ , Stiles berated himself while Derek sucked another mark on his neck. It had taken them long enough to reach this point for Stiles to ruin it with his dumb insecurities. He tried to focus on the feeling of Derek’s teeth scraping against his throat, but his mind kept going back to how soft and pliant his body felt against Derek’s, how scrawny it was in comparison.

Derek must have sensed a change in his scent, because he moved away from Stiles’ neck, resting his weight on his arms to look at him.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, concerned.

"What? Nothing. Why are you stopping, come back."

Stiles tried to pull him into a kiss, but Derek resisted. "Why are you ashamed? What happened?"

Stiles blushed, avoiding Derek's gaze. "Dude, seriously, it's nothing." Seeing that Derek wouldn't let the matter go, he deflated. "Okay, fine. I just... I mean, look at you."

"... What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing! That's the problem. You're all—" Stiles gesticulated to Derek's body, "and I'm just... _this_.”

"You're joking." When Stiles didn't say anything in response, Derek realized his boyfriend was actually being serious. "Stiles. In case you haven't noticed," he said, pressing his lower body against Stiles’, getting a strangled gasp in response, "I very much find you attractive. But because I know you, I know words won't be enough to convince you. So how about I show you, instead?"

* * *

The morning after, Derek woke up to find Stiles' side of the bed empty. He went cold all over, thinking he might have gone too far last night, and Stiles had upped and left without saying a word. But after focusing his senses, he heard Stiles’ heartbeat and the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, and he relaxed. He got up, blindly reaching for a pair of sweats, and went out to find his missing boyfriend.

"Are those my boxers?" Derek mumbled, wrapping his arms around Stiles from behind and hiding his face on the back of his neck.

"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't find mine, so I just grabbed the first thing I came across."

"Don't be. You look good in them," he said, mouthing lazily at Stiles' throat. "You smell like me."

"Oh? Is that something you like, big guy?"

In spite of Stiles' playful tone, Derek could smell an undercurrent of nervousness. "Something wrong? You smell—"

"I wish you'd stop doing that, sometimes. Does privacy mean nothing to you wolves?" Stiles snorted, turning around and wrapping his arms around Derek's shoulders. Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, and Stiles blurted out, "I love you."

Derek's heart skipped a bit.

"I wanted to tell you last night," continued Stiles," but I didn't want you to think it was a heat of the moment thing, or something like that." Derek stayed silent, looking a bit lost. "You don't have to say it back, okay? I know you don't— I know it's not easy for you. So, no worries, okay? I don't mind waiting, or whatever."

"Don't you?" Derek asked, finding his voice again. "Most people in your position would."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not most people," Stiles replied, with a roll of his eyes. "So, do you want some coffee?"

"What I want," Derek said, tightening his grip on Stiles' waist, "is to take you back to bed."

"Well, I guess I could go for that. I _am_ very accommodating, after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: there's some smut, but it's not graphic by any means, and the main event happens off-screen. Still, if you think I should up the rating to M, just let me know.  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Is this okay?”  
> “I think you’re beautiful.”  
> “It looks good on you.”  
> “You don’t have to say anything.”  
> “It doesn’t bother me.”


	11. Anniversary

"I'm assuming it was you who left me a letter at the loft?"

"Well, I should hope so. I'd be worried if someone else was sending you love letters."

"Oh, is that what is was? I got kind of distracted by the pun on the front of the card."

"Hey! It's supposed to be romantic."

"You literally compared our relationship to a hot dog."

"You have no sense of humor. I don't know what I see in you."

"Sure you don't. Are you going to tell me why you got me a card or am I going to have to guess?"

"... You really don't remember?"

"Remember what? That I've been dating an idiot with terrible comedic skills for the past year?"

"You're an asshole. Anniversary cancelled. See if I ever do something romantic for you again."

"Oh no. No more terrible puns? No more ridiculous pet names? However would I survive."

"You know, I'd be actually offended, if you hadn't gotten all sappy on me the last time I called you baby."

"Stiles. I thought we agreed to never mention that again."

"Did we? Must have slipped my mind."

"Keep that up and I won't take you out to dinner tonight."

"Too late, buddy. I already made reservations. Wear something nice, I'm picking you up at six."

* * *

"Hey there, handsome," said Stiles when Derek opened the door, pulling him into a kiss.

"I thought you said six? It's only five-thirty."

"I know, but there's something we need to do before we go." Seeing Derek's raised eyebrow, he motioned to the package in his hand. "We're exchanging gifts!"

"I thought that letter was your gift?" Derek grinned, as he pulled Stiles into the loft and towards the couch.

"Nope, that one was just for funsies. Now come on, open it."

With a put-upon sigh — _which is not fooling me one bit, I can see you smiling, big guy_ — Derek opened it up, to reveal a dark green sweater. He inspected it for a moment, rubbing the soft material between his fingertips, and said, "The color of my eyes? Really, Stiles?"

"And you say I'm not romantic," he replied, earning himself a snort and a peck on the lips.

Derek went to look for his own gift and came back with a small envelope in his hands. Stiles frowned in confusion, thinking Derek had just followed his example and gotten him a card, but his jaw went slack when he saw what was inside.

"Are these premiere tickets for the new Marvel movie?! How—"

“Scott mentioned you’d been trying to save up for them, but you probably wouldn’t get the money in time,” Derek said with a shrug. “And stop looking at me like that. You know I have money.”

“Well, yeah, but you shouldn’t waste it on—”

“It’s not a waste if it makes you happy,” Derek said firmly, shoulders tense, but then loosened up, looking almost uncertain. “You are happy, aren’t you? Cause I can—”

Stiles shut him up with a kiss, and smiled brightly at him. "Oh, I am _very_ happy. I’ll show you how much, later tonight. Now come, dinner awaits!”

* * *

"Okay, admittedly, having both an appetizer and two main courses may have been a bit overkill."

"As long as you haven't gotten us dessert, we should be fine," Derek said, leaning back on his seat.

"Yeah, about that..."

"Seriously?"

"Listen, we're not skipping the dessert. But maybe we can share?"

"The things I do for you," Derek muttered, as Stiles called over the waiter. A moment later, a slice of apple pie and two forks were placed in front of them. "... you're such a sap."

"Oh, good, I wasn't sure you'd remember. When you think about it, that night at the diner was almost like a first date."

"Except we weren’t dating at the time."

"Details," Stiles dismissed with his hand. "Think of it this way: It was the night where I realized my feelings for you were more that simple attraction.”

"Is that so?" Derek smiled.

"Yep. And it was the first time you admitted to us being friends. I think that makes it special enough."

Derek shook his head, fondly exasperated, and fed Stiles some pie with his own fork.

Stiles' smile was blinding. "And you say I'm the sap."

"Happy anniversary, idiot."

"You too, asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the card Stiles gave to Derek [here](https://allwording.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/love-puns-hotdog.png)  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Did you get my letter?”  
> “I made reservations.”  
> “It brings out your eyes.”  
> “I bought you a ticket.”  
> “We can share.”


	12. Happy

"I'd really feel more comfortable carrying that myself."

"Dude, listen, I got this."

"I really don't think you do,” said Derek, looking wary.

"It's not even that heavy! I know you're a supernaturally strong werewolf, but I'm not weak, you know?" Stiles huffed, picking up one of the bigger, heavier-looking boxes and holding it securely in his arms.

"I know you're not—"

"Babe, honestly, where's the trust—" Stiles yelped as his foot got caught in the rug, and he fell to the floor, the box flying from his hands, and all over to the other side of the room.

"... Are you hurt?"

"No. Just my pride."

Derek helped him up to his feet, laughing fondly. "You're such a klutz."

"Well, you're living with this klutz now. I hope you're ready for the consequences."

"Looking forward to it." Derek was shaking his head, but his smile remained firmly in place.

Stiles face turned soft, and he reached out to cradle Derek’s jaw, running his thumb softly over the corner of his lips. "You're getting laugh lines, you know?"

"Oh?"

"You didn't use to smile much. But you do now, and... I kind of like them. And I like that you're happy enough to get them in the first place."

Derek's throat went tight with emotion. He placed his hand on top of the one Stiles had on his jaw, and leaned in to kiss him, soft and slow, unable to express his feelings out loud.

"What was that for?" Stiles asked, once they broke apart.

"Since when do I need a reason to kiss you?" Derek leaned in for another kiss, but got interrupted by the doorbell. "Must be the take-out. I'll go get it, you can go and set the table. And do try not to run into anything on the way to the kitchen."

“Oh, but how can I resist, when I know you’ll just patch me up and kiss it better if I happen to fall?” Stiles asked with a pout, a hand on his chest.

He was such a little shit.

He’d been afraid he would eventually regret asking Stiles to move in with him. But looking around and seeing Stiles’ boxes piled up in the living room, and hearing him hum a song under his breath while he made his way to the kitchen, he realized he’d been wrong.

He couldn’t imagine ever having any regrets when it came to Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “I’ll do it for you.”  
> “It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”  
> “I like your laugh.”  
> “Just because.”/“No reason.”  
> “Sit down, I’ll get it.”


	13. Hindsight

Stiles woke up when he felt a hand in the nape of his neck, squeezing lightly, and a pair of lips on his temple. He had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, head pillowed on his arms, waiting for Derek to come home from another late shift. "Hey, you," he mumbled.

"I told you not to wait up for me."

"Wanted to see you... you're leaving too early in the morning, so I at least want to see you for a bit at night," Stiles whispered, leaning back to look at Derek's face. He looked tired —which wasn't surprising, since he'd been pulling double-shifts at the station for two weeks now— and from the expression on his face, he was probably feeling more than a little guilty at how little time he spent at home these days.

"I'm sorry," Derek said, brushing a kiss against his forehead. "Things have been so busy at the station, I just—"

"Hey, hey, no. I know how hard you worked to get this job. It's fine. I just... I just miss you, I guess."

Derek pressed his lips firmly together, avoiding Stiles' gaze. "I'll see if I can cut down a bit on the hours, but no promises," and with one last kiss, he went into the bedroom to change.

Stiles stared at his retreating back, suddenly wide awake. That... that had been a lie. Maybe he wasn’t a lie-detecting werewolf, but he knew his boyfriend well enough to know when he wasn’t telling the truth. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, knowing that if he didn't his brain would start imagining the worst. He'd talk with his dad the next time he saw him, to see if he knew anything, and then he'd have a talk with Derek. The panicking could wait.

* * *

"Since when do you wake before the sun?" asked Derek as he walked into the kitchen, already in his police uniform.

"I did say I wanted more quality time with you. Coffee?"

Derek hesitated, but sat down to have breakfast with him for a couple of minutes, eyes darting to check the time every couple of seconds. "I should get going," he said, quickly gulping down the last of his coffee.

"Yeah, of course." _Stop panicking, idiot_. "Have a good day. See you later, babe."

Derek kissed him on the cheek and rushed out the door.

Yeah, that talk with his dad was happening today.

* * *

He’d sent his dad a text, asking him to let him know when Derek was out of the station, and had to admit he needed to talk privately —and urgently— with him before he agreed. An hour later, his dad gave him the heads up, so he made his way there.

"Are you going to explain what this urgent matter is about? I need to get back to work soon," the sheriff said, when he saw stiles stumble into his office.

"Is that the greeting I receive? To your _loving_ son, who you haven't seen in years—"

"Stiles, it's been three days."

"But they felt like years, I bet," he grinned, plopping down on the chair in front of the desk. When he remembered why he'd come in the first place, his smile dimmed. "Hey, can I ask... Derek’s been coming to work every day, right?"

"Yes?" The sheriff frowned.

"And pulling double shifts?"

"... Son, what's this about?"

Stiles bit his lip. "I never see him anymore. I know it's not that weird, for him having to work so many hours every once in a while, but... when he mentioned he'd talk to you about it, I could tell he was lying." Stiles swallowed, avoiding his dad's concerned gaze.

"He's not lying about the double shifts. And he's not seeing anyone else, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know. I know he wouldn't," Stiles said quietly, but with confidence. Still, hearing his dad’s reassurance helped to assuage the oppressive feeling in his chest that had been there since the night before. "I'm just worried".

The sheriff stared at him for a moment before sighing, rubbing his forehead. "Derek made me promise to stay out of it, and I agreed, because I thought I would make it worse if I got involved. But it's been going on for too long, and I’ve seen no signs of improvement."

"What?" Stiles asked, suddenly alert. "What are you talking about?"

"Some of the other deputies... they haven't been very welcoming. I don't know if it's because of his track record, or if they think he got the job because of his relationship with the sheriff's son, or both, but they've been giving him a hard time. He's been trying to show them he's earned his place here—"

"—by working more hours." Stiles' fists were clenched tightly, and he tried to calm his breathing. "No more. Get him to come home at a decent time today, I’ll talk to him. And please, have a talk with your deputies, they're grown adults, for fuck's sake."

The sheriff smiled brightly at him. "Look at you, acting all mature. You're officially an adult now."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

* * *

"Why were you at the station today?" Derek asked as soon as he got home. Right in time for dinner.

"Oh, you know. I was in the area, decided to catch up with dad."

Stiles turned around and came face to face with Derek, who cornered him against the counter.

"Lie."

"Oh, you want to talk about lies? Then tell me, why have you been lying to me for the past two weeks?”

"I haven't—"

"You know exactly what I talked about with my dad, so don't even try, buddy."

"It was none of your business."

"Like hell it wasn't! Do you have any idea what I thought—" he stopped and looked away, unable to even say it out loud.

" _Stiles_ ," Derek whispered, sounding almost horrified. "I would _never_ —"

"I know. But you know how my brain gets. I kept thinking about it even when I knew I was being dumb."

Derek turned Stiles' face until he was looking at him. "You're not dumb. And you're right, I should have talked to you about it."

"Maybe. But I should have mentioned something, too." Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s and kissed him softly, letting go of the last of his anger. "My dad will be having a talk with those deputies. I don't mind if you want to continue working hard, and doing some extra hours here and there, but please, no more double shifts."

"All right. I can do that," Derek said, and kissed him again. "Please tell me I can take you to bed now. I hate that I made you think—”

"Hey, it’s okay. How about we have dinner and go to sleep instead? You look ready to pass out, babe. " Derek looked uncertain. "You can make it up to me tomorrow, if you really need to. Just focus on yourself first."

"If you insist."

"I do. You know I don't like it when you don't take care of yourself. You may be a werewolf, but you're not indestructible, you know?"

"I know," Derek said tiredly. It wasn't the first time they'd had that argument.

If only he had finally paid attention to Stiles, he would have avoided that same argument two months later. And they wouldn't have come so close to breaking up over it.

As they said, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologize for that ending, but... well. At least I gave you a heads up for next chapter?  
> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Sorry I’m late.”  
> “Have a good day at work.”/ “I’ll see you later.”  
> “I was in the neighborhood.”  
> “I’ll meet you halfway.”


	14. Worth

Another pack had entered their territory. It wasn’t that uncommon, not nowadays, but proper procedure dictated that a pack should always inform the Alpha if they did so, and this one hadn’t. So when they went to check up on the intruding pack, it wasn’t all that surprising they’d gotten attacked.

Annoying, maybe, but not surprising.

Just as annoying as Derek jumping in front of an attack meant for Stiles, _again_ , like the absolute sacrificial idiot he was. Stiles wouldn’t even have been so angry about it if Scott hadn’t been right next to him at the time, and his friend hadn’t been two seconds away from attacking the other werewolf back, while Derek had run all the way over from the other side of the clearing, covering Stiles with his own body and getting the brunt of the Alpha’s claws. Not to mention that Stiles had gotten very good at dodging over the years, thank you very much, and was more than capable of moving out of the way.

“Stop trying to suck my pain and focus on healing, _oh my God_.” Stiles stepped back, trying not to put too much pressure on his swollen ankle. His ability to evade attacks may have improved, but getting some small injuries in the middle of a fight was still inevitable. “I told you to stop doing this! You can’t keep jumping in front of everything just to keep me safe. Not only was Scott _right there_ , but I can take care of myself. I’m not a dumb sixteen-year-old who doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore.”

Derek winced, pressing his hand harder to his side, already feeling the wound starting to heal, though a bit slower than usual. "I'm sorry, okay? I saw that werewolf jumping at you and I didn’t think—"

"—about yourself. You didn't think about your own well-being for one fucking second, you _never_ do." Stiles sighed, exhausted of having the same argument over and over.

"What do you except me to do? I'm the Alpha, I'm supposed to take care of my pack if they're in danger."

"Yeah, well, guess what? It's a pack's job to take care of their Alpha, too. But you won't let anyone, least of all yourself, do that. You keep acting as if you didn't matter, as if it doesn't matter whether you live or die. I thought we were past this." Derek tried to get closer to Stiles, to touch him and apologize again, hating how defeated he sounded, but Stiles stepped further away, breathing in harshly when he rested too much weight on his ankle.

Derek's eyes immediately focused on it. "Do you need to go the hospital? I can take you—"

"No," Stiles murmured, looking away. "Scott can take me."

Derek started to feel numb, and he knew it had nothing to do with the wound stitching itself up. "Oh."

"Just... I wish you’d understand that you're important too. Do you have any idea what it would do to the pack if something where to happen to you? What it would do to me?" Stiles looked back at him. "I'm staying at my dad's after I get my ankle checked out, okay? I think... I think I need some space."

Derek's throat went tight, so he just nodded in response, and watched, helplessly, as Stiles walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”  
> “Well, what do you want to do?”  
> “Don’t worry about me.”  
> “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”  
> “You’re important too.”


	15. Forgiveness

It had been three days since the fight, and to say that Stiles was miserable would be an understatement.

He missed Derek. He wanted to text him, wanted to kiss him and ask for forgiveness, but deep down, he knew the fight had been unavoidable. He’d meant what he said, even if he hated what it had led to.

He’d been staying at his dad’s since he got his ankle checked out at the hospital, and he’d spent the last three days tired, in pain, and unable to move around the house to avoid straining his ankle. Derek hadn’t contacted him once, and Stiles didn’t know if it was because he was trying to give him some space, or because he wasn’t ready to talk to him either.

Shit, were they even dating anymore?

Maybe Derek had taken Stiles leaving as a sign that he was done with them. Or maybe he was angry, maybe Stiles had come across as controlling instead of concerned, and Derek was the one done with _him_. Or—

Stiles let out a yelp and flailed around to grab his phone when he heard it buzz on the coffee table, careful not to jostle his ankle. His heart almost stopped when he saw it was Derek.

_Derek: Hey._

Seriously? What was he supposed to do with that?

_Stiles: Hey_

_Derek: Can we talk?_

_Derek: Please._

Oh, boy.

_Stiles: Yeah, ok_

_Stiles: Remember to use the front door_

_Stiles: Key’s under the mat_

He considered trying to get up to change his clothes, but he realized he'd probably fall down the stairs if he tried. If he even made it to the stairs.

Well, whatever, he was probably about to get dumped anyway.

He didn't have too long to think about it, because a couple of minutes later there was a knock on the door, followed by the sound of a key turning, and Derek came into the living room.

Holding a bouquet of flowers.

_What._

"Hey," Derek whispered, frowning when he saw the bandages around Stiles' ankle. "Is it... does it hurt?"

"Oh. Hum, a bit? It's fine."

"You sure? 'Cause I can-" Derek held out his hand.

"I mean, if you want." God, this was awkward. When was the last time they'd been this awkward around each other?

Derek stepped closer and sat on the coffee table, right next to Stiles' injured ankle. Stiles let out a relieved breath when Derek placed his hand on top of it, taking some of his pain.

"Thanks."

"These are for you," Derek said almost at the same time, shoving the flowers towards him.

Stiles took them carefully, taking the opportunity to inspect them so he wouldn't have to look at Derek’s face. "I take it that if you're bringing me flowers, you're not planning to break up with me?"

" _Stiles_. Why would I break up with you? I'm the one who should be asking you that."

Stiles’ head snapped up at that. “What? Why the fuck would _I_ break up with _you_?”

“ _You left_.”

“I—” Stiles closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I was upset, Derek. You’d just put yourself at risk, _again_ , and I just… I wish you’d stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

He heard Derek suck in a breath. “… I’ve been talking to my therapist about it. These past couple of days. I— I’m sorry. I know you worry. I’m trying to be better.”

“I don’t want you to be better, dude. I want you to be happy.”

Stiles felt a hand on his cheek then, and opened his eyes to meet Derek’s soft gaze. “I know. I’m getting there.” Derek seemed to hesitate then, and said, with a small smile, “I did the dishes while you were gone.”

Stiles _hated_ doing the dishes. He felt the tension dissipate, and he grabbed Derek’s hand to pull him closer, so he would lay down on the couch with him.

“We’re not going to fit, the couch can barely hold you,” Derek said, but laid down on top of Stiles anyway, face hidden in the crook of his neck, mindful of his injured ankle.

“I know you’ll never stop protecting your pack, just… be more careful in the future. Please,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s temple. “If not for me, do it for your family. They’d want you to be safe.”

Derek pressed a soft kiss to his neck as a response, and Stiles knew they’d be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “The key is under the mat.”  
> “I picked these for you.”  
> “I did the dishes.”  
> “There is enough room for both of us.”  
> “Be careful.”


	16. Love

Stiles narrowed his eyes, looking at Derek with suspicion. “A surprise.”

“Yes.”

“You realize it’s freezing outside, right? And it’s getting dark already? I know you werewolves run like furnaces, but some of us are weak, fragile humans.”

Derek snorted. “There’s nothing fragile about you. And you’re not weak. Now come on,” Derek said, and threw him his coat, scarf and a pair of gloves.

Once they were in the car, Stiles racked his brain trying to guess what the surprise might be about. Their third-year anniversary had been two months ago, so that couldn’t be it. Shit, was it Derek’s birthday? Wait, no, the surprise wouldn’t be for him, then. Was it _his_ birthday? It wouldn’t be the first time he forgot.

“Stop trying to guess,” Derek sighed from the driver’s seat, reaching out to tangle their fingers together.

It didn’t take long before they reached the edge of the preserve, and they got out of the car to continue on foot. Stiles’ scarf had come undone during the ride, and Derek tug him closer to fix it for him, earning himself a smile and a peck on the lips in thanks.

They walked through the forest for a couple of minutes, hand in hand, until they reached a small clearing next to a cliffside. They stayed quiet for a moment, enjoying the view. The sky was a mixture of reds and oranges, and it cast a warm, dim light over the horizon, as the sun was starting to set.

“I used to come here with my family,” Derek whispered, squeezing Stiles’ hand. “My mum would bring a sketchpad and draw for hours, while my dad napped and listened to some music, and me, Laura and Cora played around.”

“Yeah?” Stiles brushed his thumb over the back of Derek’s hand. “It sounds nice. I’m glad you still remember moments like that.”

Derek smiled, and turned to face him, tugging at Stiles’ hand so he would do the same. “Close your eyes. And give me your hand.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. He felt Derek touching his hand, tentatively, and then a small, round object sliding into his finger. He opened his eyes in shock, not even waiting for Derek to tell him to do so, and all the air left his lungs when he saw the silver band on his ring finger.

“Your dad gave it to me,” Derek said, eyes focused on the ring. “I told him I was planning to propose and he asked if I could do it with this. Said it was from your mum’s side.”

“Derek…” Stiles started to tear up.

“Would you marry me?” Derek asked, finally looking up, and reaching out to brush a tear from the corner of Stiles' eye.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll— As if you needed to ask,” Stiles choked out, throwing himself at him and pressing their lips together. “I love you,” he whispered, smiling brightly.

Derek pressed their foreheads together gently, and smiled back. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by these prompts:  
> “Come here. Let me fix it.”  
> “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”  
> “You didn’t have to ask.”  
> “I love you.”


End file.
